The School Years Complete Collection. Soman Chainani

the glass castle. In the weak sun, his milky face had a glint of red.

      Sophie met his eyes, steeling her heart.

      He’d love her back. He’d have to.

      Because she’d destroy him if he dared love anyone else.

      uried under lace pillows, all Agatha could hear was the echo of four terrible words.

      GET YOUR OWN LIFE.

      What life? Before Sophie, all she could remember was darkness and pain. Sophie had made her feel normal. Sophie had made her feel needed. Without Sophie, she was a freak, a nothing, a …

      Agatha’s stomach dropped.

      A witch never has her own fairy tale.

      Without Sophie, she was a witch.

      For six days, Agatha stayed shut up in her tower, listening to the screams of Evers terrorized by new attacks. All joint-school activities had been canceled indefinitely, lunch and Forest Groups included. Was this all her fault? Didn’t witches leave fairy tales in ruins? As the screams outside grew more panicked, her guilt screwed tighter and tighter.

      Then the attacks stopped.

      Huddled in common rooms, Evers held their breath. But when Saturday and Sunday went, Agatha knew the storm had passed. Sophie would come to say sorry any minute now. Gazing at the rose-tinted moon, Agatha hugged her pillow and prayed. Their friendship would survive this.

      Fairies jingled outside the door and she swiveled to see a note slid under it. Chest pounding, she dived out of bed, swooped it into sweaty palms—

      Dear Students,

      With the Snow Ball six days away, this week’s challenges will see if you are prepared. Despite recent interruptions, there will be no further cancellations. Our traditions are what separate Good from Evil. Even in the darkest of times, a Ball may be your best chance to find a happy ending.

      Professor Dovey

      Agatha groaned and buried herself under pink sheets.

      But as she gave in to sleep, she began to hear words … Ball … purpose … happy … They tumbled in darkness, echoing deeper, deeper, until they planted in her soul like magic seeds.

      Ravan tiptoed towards Room 66, swan crests of six shivering Nevers glinting in darkness behind him.

      “If the attacks stopped, maybe she’s dead,” Vex said.

      “Maybe villains don’t do Evil on Sundays,” said Brone.

      “Or maybe Sophie got over that stupid prince!” Ravan lashed.

      “You don’t ever get over love,” Hort moped in dirty long johns. “Even if they steal your room and your pajamas.”

      “Sophie shouldn’t even have let herself love!” Ravan shot back. “First time I told my dad I liked a girl, he slathered me in honey and sealed me in a bear den for a night. Haven’t liked one since.”

      “First time I told my mother I fancied someone, she baked me in an oven for an hour,” Mona agreed, green skin paling. “I never think about boys now.”

      “First time I liked a boy, my dad killed him.”

      The group stopped and stared at Arachne. “Maybe Sophie just had bad parents,” she said.

      With solemn nods, the Nevers skulked to Room 66, hidden in shadow. Holding their breaths, they each found a piece of door and pressed their ears to it.

      They didn’t hear anything.

      “On three,” Ravan mouthed. Nevers backed up, preparing to storm it. “One … two …”

      “Drink this.”

      Anadil’s voice inside. Nevers shoved their ears to the door.

      “They’re—killing—me—” Sophie rasped weakly—

      Sounds of vomiting.

      “She has a high fever, Hester.”

      “Lady Lesso said—Nemesis—Drea—”

      “They’re nothing, Sophie,” Hester’s voice said. “Now go to sleep.”

      “Will I—be—better for—Ball? Tedros—promised—”

      “Close your eyes, dearie.”

      “Dreams—they’ll come—” Sophie wheezed—

      “Shhh, we’re here now,” Hester said.

      It was quiet inside, but Ravan and the Nevers didn’t move. Then they heard voices closer to the door.

      “Dreams of faces, high fever, obsession … Lady Lesso’s right!” Anadil whispered. “Tedros is her Nemesis!”

      “So she did meet the School Master!” Hester whispered back. “She’s in a real fairy tale!”

      “Then this whole school better watch out, Hester. Real fairy tales mean war!”

      “Ani, we need to get Tedros and Sophie back together now! Before any symptoms appear!”

      “But how?”

      “Your talent,” Hester whispered. “But we can’t tell a soul! This gets out and all our lives are at stak—”

      Her voice stopped.

      Ravan wheeled to the others—

      The door slammed open. Hester peered out, eyes narrowed.

      But the hallway was empty.

      On Monday morning, Agatha woke with a strong urge to go to class.

      Stomping around her room, she shoved on her rumpled pinafore and picked lint from her greasy hair. How many days could she wait? Sophie didn’t want to apologize? Sophie didn’t want to be friends? She crushed Sophie’s paper rose, hurled it through the window—

      I can have my own life!

      She searched for something else to throw, then glimpsed crinkled parchment under her toes.

      “A Ball may be your best chance …”

      Agatha grabbed it into her hands and read Professor Dovey’s note again, eyes flaring.

      That’s it! The Ball was her chance!

      All she needed was one of those vile, arrogant boys to take her! Then Sophie would eat her words!

      She jammed callused feet into her clumps and stomped down the stairs, waking the whole tower.

      She had five days to find a date to the Evers Snow Ball.

      Five days to prove she wasn’t a witch.

      Ball Week got off to a bizarre start when Professor Anemone pranced in ten minutes late, wearing a white swan-feather dress with a high rump and scandalously short hem, along with purple panty hose, sparkly garters, and a crown that could have been an upside-down chandelier.

      “Behold, true Ball elegance,” she preened, caressing her tail feathers. “A good thing boys cannot ask me to the Ball, or many of you would lose your princes!”

      She basked in her students’ stares. “Yes, isn’t it divine. I was told by Empress Vaisilla this is all the rage in Putsi.”

      “Putsi? Where is Putsi?” Kiko wisped.

      “Home to a lot of angry